Washington Burning
by Hawthorn Tree
Summary: The year is 1814 and Washington D.C. is burning.


He felt it long before he saw it. The feeling of apprehension that had been lingering in his chest for days now had suddenly stopped long enough for him to fell relief before it was replaced by a slightly uncomfortable burning sensation before giving way to an a scorching heat inside his chest.

Clutching where his heart was, Alfred sank to his knees as agony rolled over him in heated waves. Vaguely he noted that William was shouting, asking him what was wrong, but all Alfred could do was let out a pained moan as he leaned into his human friend.

"Sir!" he dimly heard a messenger shout. The man slowed when William gave him a glare and swallowed thickly, "Sir, Washington it's… it's burning."

That was all William needed to know what was wrong, why Alfred had suddenly developed a fever and was in so much pain. His heart was burning.

He dismissed the messenger, knowing Alfred wouldn't want his men to see him like this. Knowing Alfred was in too much agony to really care, no matter what his ego dictated.

Alfred groaned again, this time louder and more painfully as his breathing became more labored. William tightened his hold on the nation and allowed him to lean against his chest, stroking his friends' blonde hair and softly singing a song he vaguely remembered from when he was young, not knowing at all how to comfort the nation.

Alfred gave a pained gasp as the fire spread through his chest, gripping his heart painfully as burns began to form across his skin. Scorching waves of pain rolled through him, turning his vision white and blocking out the world around him. In his mind's eye he could see Washington, see the Presidential Mansion erupting in flames; the labor of craftsmen brought from Europe and years of hard work burning.

Standing outside of the mansion he could see Britain, a triumphant look on his face as he watched the capital of his former colony go up in flames.  
_"You see America? This is what happens when you defy me,"_ his smug expression seemed to say.

But what shocked Alfred the most wasn't the bold stroke on the part of the British, the pain he felt didn't leave much room for that. What truly shocked him was the presence of his twin; the fact that Canada, his neighbor, his _brother_, was standing their calmly, watching placidly as Washington D.C. went up in flames. And just by seeing him, Alfred knew that Matthew had been the first to throw a torch into the Presidential Mansion.

Acute anger and the feeling of utter betrayal swept over Alfred, briefly stilling the burning sensation. His _brother_ had _betrayed him_ in favor of their ex-father figure. Yes, Alfred had invaded Canada first, though it pained him to admit it. But it had been what the war-hawks had wanted and he had been powerless to stop them. Matthew knew that Alfred couldn't defy his boss, right?

By now bitter tears were running down America's face and William was getting increasingly worried, not knowing in the slightest what to do. Never once in his limited schooling or training had they mentioned what to do when your best friend and country was burning from the inside-out.

As Alfred watched in betrayed horror, Matthew slowly turned around, almost as if he sensed his southern neighbor's presence.  
"You burned my parliament building, so I burnt your capital. Seems like a fair trade, doesn't it America?" Canada whispered bitterly, his face a mask of hate.

Alfred shook his head slowly, in too much pain to answer. He couldn't believe this. Mattie would never do this, right?  
"I almost wish you were here, just so I could see the look on your face," Canada went on to say harshly, "Just so I could know how much pain you're in."

Alfred opened his mouth to answer, but was stopped by the sound of the Presidential Mansion collapsing and the wave of extreme pain that came with it, more white hot and burning than anything he had felt before.

"I'm sorry, Mattie," he managed to murmur before blacking out against William, who now though his delusional.

If he had stayed conscious a second longer though, he would have seen a look of remorse cross Matthew's face and heard his twin whisper,

"I'm sorry too, Alfred."

**And I'm sorry if Alfred and Matthew were OOC, this is my first time writing about them. William is my OC, Alfred just seems to me like the kind of guy who would have a close friend not in politics that knew about him being a nation. Personally I see their relationship as that of close friends, but if you want to see it as slash, go right ahead and please leave me out of it. I'm actually thinking about doing a series of one-shots focused on Alfred and William, so if you'd like seeing that please leave a review and tell me.**

**For those who don't know, the Presidential Mansion was the original version of the White House that burned down in 1814. I don't actually know who tossed the first torch, but in my head cannon it's Matthew.**

**Anyways, I've got to stop because it's 11:00 and I still have homework to do. And to make it even more fun, it's all due tomorrow. Stupid Honors English and AP US History. What on Earth was I thinking, taking that class as a sophmore!**


End file.
